


v is for victory (and d is for defeat, i guess)

by ventilation



Category: Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Justice League: War, Reign of the Supermen (2019), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different timeline, F/M, Implied Secret Relationship, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25284982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ventilation/pseuds/ventilation
Summary: victor is a hundred dollars richer overnight
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Victor Stone, Kon-El | Conner Kent & Raven, Kon-El | Conner Kent/Raven, One-Sided Raven/Damian Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	v is for victory (and d is for defeat, i guess)

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be longer. idk what happened, but it happened and im so sorry for the lack of quality ;;;

“Hey, Rae, that’s mine!”

“I don’t see your name on it.”

“What? You can  _ clearly _ see it in between those pepperonis. See?  _ C-O-N-N-E— _ Hey!”

“I don’t see anything.”

“That’s because you  _ bit _ it off!”

Victor looks at them through the corner of his eye, and he rests his cheek on a fist.

It’s a strange scene to witness: Superboy hovering over her with feigned anger over the last slice of pizza she had managed to swipe before him and Raven’s amusingly slow chewing, eyes lit up in a tease. It’s certainly  _ odd, _ in a way, but Vic lets his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.

Odd, yes, but not the oddest thing he’s ever seen. (Nothing can beat the relaxed smile of a sedated Batman. Now  _ that _ had been beyond peculiar.)

The sofa shifts as someone takes a seat in the empty space beside him. “Thanks for the pizzas again, Vic,” Dick thanks, an easy smile on his face, and Vic nods.

“It’s pizza night,” he responds, almost a matter-of-factly, and his fingers drum against the side of his thigh. The metallic  _ tat tat tat _ is drowned out by laughter and chatter and the opening music of whatever movie Gar had decided to put up.

_ Pizza night.  _ Victor had never really thought that this weekly thing would go as long as it had, in all honesty. But, it did, and he's not sure how to feel about this ...  _ fluffy _ belonging feeling spreading inside him yet.

Nightwing chuckles, rousing him from his thoughts, and he turns his attention to what he had been laughing at.

“Gotta hand it to the brat,” Dick starts when Vic still can’t pinpoint what exactly it is that his him amused. “He certainly knows how to woo the ladies.”

A moment, and  _ oh. _

“Damian?” he asks, though the confirmation isn’t needed as he watches Robin break into a gentle smile, eyes gazing softly at the girl in front of him who had this look of appreciation on her face at something he’d probably done. Another moment.  _ “Raven?” _

“Yeah. Who woulda thought, right?”

Vic doesn’t answer, electing instead to continue looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen: Damian conversing with Raven about something or the other, Conner sitting on one of the stools to the side of the kitchen table. There's nothing really off or strange about. Just another everyday scene in the Tower. But, Vic squints, and, he sees the reddish hue on Damian's cheeks.  _ Huh. _

The intro song of the movie finally rolls in, the company logo flashing briefly on the screen, and Vic looks away to catch a glimpse of the WB letters on the television before it faded away. A few feet in front of them, Donna and Garfield are sitting on the ground, animatedly talking in hushed voices, their excitement for the movie bouncing off them in waves. 

He can’t blame them—the movie is supposedly one of the best thrillers of the year. Something about a father trying to take back his daughter from a group of masked men. An eight out of ten rating in one of those critique sites he had managed to look up. 

But, Vic knows he can’t watch—or, at least, wouldn’t be able to watch without getting distracted, and he sighs.

“Okay, I’ll bite. When did this start?”

Dick smirks, the  _ jerk, _ and Vic feels his own lips curve into a smile.

“It started about a few months ago, with Damian,” he responds, sounding almost too nonchalantly, but the air around him suggests that he’d been dying to talk to someone about it. “It’s really not surprising no one noticed.”

“But,  _ you _ did?”

“Oh, I read his journal.” Dick shrugs, and _ ah. _

“Kori doesn’t know, does she?”

“You kidding? As much as I love her, she’d probably tell me off about snooping in Damian’s room and insist that I apologise.” Vic chuckles, and Dick looks unimpressed. “It was on accident, okay? And, knowing Damian, he’d probably think it wasn’t.  _ It’s an accident. _ ”

He raises both his hands, “Okay, sure.” (Both of them know he's lying.) A pause. “I won’t tell.”

“Damn right, you won’t.”

They settle into an amicable silence after that, and he watches idly as the father guns down another guy after finding that it had been a setup. The blood effect is almost too real, and Kori, who had entered a few minutes before, has her eyebrows scrunching at the sight. (He reminds himself to search for movie titles later.) He looks around.

Donna and Garfield had elected that sitting isn’t enough and had sprawled on to the floor without a care. On the couch adjacent to them is Jaime, legs pulled close as he munches on some chips. Kori is with him, her face still in that scrunch that tells him she’s regretting not looking at the rating of the movie beforehand.

(Which, with their line of work, is a bit ironic, but Starfire is motherly, and it’s not like Vic doesn’t understand her concerns.)

And, in the kitchen—

It’s the smile that makes him stop, gears whirring inside at the brightness of her expression. It’s sweet and private— _ intimate? _ Victor has to backtrack because  _ Raven, intimate? _ But her arm moves, just a tiny bit, and his mouth turns into an ‘oh’.

So, that’s how it is.

“Huh.”

“So,” Dick coughs softly, “Wanna make a bet?”

Vic doesn’t question why his voice is suddenly so quiet, but it takes him a second before he tears his eyes away from them. “What bet?”

“How long it’d take the brat and Raven to get together,” he says quietly, a mischievous grin forming on his face. “Hundred bucks says a week.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Just look at ‘em.”

And, so he does, for what seemed to be the third—fourth,  _ fifth? _ —time, and, yeah. He can see Damian’s feelings, in the way his blush reaches his ears and his shoulders are set tighter. He could see it in the way he rolls his eyes affectionately and the way his eyes crinkle at the side in amusement.

Victor can see Damian’s feelings, but it’s Raven’s lingering fingers on Conner’s arm that makes him hum in interest.

He doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself pulling up files of every pizza night for the last several months. There’s a nagging feeling in his gut (—if it’s wrong and he shouldn’t be prying or if it’s because he knows there’s something, he doesn’t know—), and then, he sees it.

He sees prior exasperation and incredulity turn into small talks by the couch as the rest play foosball matches and infuriating card games. He sees awkward acquaintanceship turn into friendly banters about which fizzy drink tastes better. He sees one-sided yearning turn into shared looks and inside jokes and flushed faces. He sees the subtle shift in each video he had stored.

Victor sees them: Raven and Conner through the year.

_ Who would have thought? _

He shakes his head. “I’d rather not. I’d feel bad about taking your money.”

“What? You think Damian’d take longer than a week?” Dick asks.

“No, I actually think it wouldn’t happen any time soon.”

“A month—two months?” Nightwing presses further, and Vic raises a brow at his askance.

“More like an indefinite amount of time.” In the background, a tire screeches and it seems the main protagonist of the movie is currently in a car chase. “I don’t think she’s interested.”  _ Or, single, _ but he doesn’t let that thought escape him. It’s not something he has the right to say.

There’s pause in their conversation. “We can bet on that: if she’s interested or not. You don't even have to stake money. Please?” He’s pleading now, and Victor tries not to laugh. He looks ridiculous.

“You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Was … Was that not established earlier?”

Victor shakes his head, finally relenting. “Fine, but don't hate me when you lose.”

“Pfft. I would  _ never _ hate you _ , _ ” Dick tells him, one corner of his mouth tugged slightly upwards in an effort to smirk. “ _ I’m _ going to win anyway.”

There’s a finality to his words, as if even the thought of him losing is impossible. Inconceivable.  _ Preposterous. _

But, Victor merely laughs. “Too bad, man,” he smiles. “The probability of that happening is low. And, I would know.” He taps his temple, metal on metal.

“I’ll take my chances.”

“Then, I'll expect a hundred dollars in my account by tomorrow.”

Nightwing may be familiar with winning, but unfortunately for him, he’s  _ Victor Stone, _ and Victor Stone always comes out victorious.

And, if the incomprehensible sound that escapes Dick tells him anything, it’s that even  _ he _ knows it. 

(Also, y’know, because Dick saw that kiss Conner had planted on her hand and the look Raven had given him when Damian had turned around, all smiles and blushes.)

A strangled breath. “You—you  _ knew?” _

Vic laughs. “I told you, man,” he taps the side of his head again.  _ “I would know.” _

(Next pizza night has Nightwing glaring at him the whole evening, and, well, Vic  _ did _ warn him.)

\--  
  



End file.
